Rancher at Risk

The red images gave him his bearings: Caleb’s ranch house, the guest room on the second floor, the faint light from the porch fixture outside. A deep sleep after two days of no shut-eye. A nightmare he had hoped he’d left behind.

The screeching metal and shattering glass had only added sound effects to a bad dream.

Then why did they still echo inside his head?

Lianne?

He crawled out of bed, grabbed his jeans and slid them on, all the while trying to identify the source and location of the racket that wasn’t in his head at all. And that had just ended as abruptly as if someone had pulled a plug.

The noise had come from below.

He took the stairs in two leaps. Not a sound down here, and dark as pitch except for the band of light streaming from an open door halfway down the hall to the kitchen. The continuing silence made the previous noises all the more ominous.

He hurried toward the light from the office Caleb had shown him that afternoon and then skidded to a halt in the doorway, expecting splinters from the polished wooden floor to pierce his bare soles. One glance told him serious damage had been done.

Every door in the wall of custom-built cabinets hung wide open. A drawer of each file cabinet gaped. The rest of the room looked like a field back home after a winter storm, except instead of snow, every horizontal surface had been covered with clipboards, plastic filing trays and folders spilling their guts.

Over everything drifted the scent of freshly brewed coffee from a table in one corner, the only uncluttered space in the room.

In a far corner, his new housemate stood with her back to him near one of the file cabinets. She flung another folder the few feet over to the desk behind her without looking. It slid from the edge to join the rest of them on the floor.

What the—?

Maybe he hadn’t woken up yet. He scrubbed his face with his bare hand, attempting to wipe away the last traces of drowsiness.

When he took his hand from his face, he found Lianne watching him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

Biting his tongue, he fought to come up with a question that didn’t include any swear words. “What are you doing up?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, either. I’ve got a busy schedule, so I thought I would get in here and rearrange everything the way I want it. While I’ve still got the opportunity. Before I get to work.”

She was babbling and, for the first time, had spoken to him naturally. Nerves had made her forget her defenses. Probably best not to point that out.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“Some peace and quiet.”

“Oh.” She grimaced. “I forgot to close the door, didn’t I?”

“You forgot more than that.” He glanced at the center of the room. The sound of plastic file trays and a half dozen other items crashing to the floor in front of the desk had played right into the crumpling metal and breaking glass of his dream.

She followed his gaze. “I guess I got a little involved.”

And a lot reckless.

Her cheeks pinker than the T-shirt she was wearing, she stooped and began scooping papers together.

He dropped to one knee and grabbed her wrist. When she looked up at him, her brows lowered, he gestured toward the floor. “Watch it. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“You’re worried about paper cuts?”

“No. This.” From under a flurry of paper, he lifted the jagged pieces of glass and wood.

She took the broken frame from his hand and turned it over. A trio of smiling faces looked up at them. Caleb. His wife, Tess. Their daughter, Nate.

“Oh, no. Caleb just had this photo taken.” Lianne stared down, her face stricken. Broken glass had left a deep scratch across the surface.

“It’s only a picture,” he muttered. “Easy enough to replace.”

She ignored him.

He took the frame from her and set it on the desk, then leaned over to start picking up files from the floor.

“Not those,” she said.

He looked at her.

“They’re in order. Organized chaos, I know. But that’s the way I work.”

“Right. How about I pick up what belongs on the desk and you take care of the rest?”

When he’d finished that, he rose and looked over at the coffeemaker.

“Want some?” she asked. “Help yourself.”

“Might as well. I don’t guess I’ll be going back to sleep tonight.” He looked at the pink-tinged sky through the office window and corrected himself. “This morning.”

She picked up an empty mug from the desk. “Ranchers have to get up early, don’t they?”

“Not this early,” he said.

She flushed again but held out the mug. Once he’d filled it, she took a seat behind the desk. The power position.

“Maybe sharing this house isn’t the best idea.” Her gesture swept the room. “Obviously, I’m not the quietest person. I’d hate to interfere with your sleep again.”

“I’m staying.” As if he had a choice. “Once you’re done fixing things up here, there won’t be anything else to bother me. Unless you get hit in the middle of the night with an idea to rearrange heavy furniture.”

“Very funny.”

He sat on the small couch near the coffeemaker and stretched out his legs, crossing them at his bare ankles. Might as well make use of the time, too. Show Caleb he’d done his homework. “Tell me about the school.”

She took a long deep breath followed by a sip of coffee. “Our overall mission is to provide a home for troubled boys. A residential school. They’ll live here, attend classes and group therapy sessions, and have one-on-one meetings, as well.”

He raised his brows. “Then you’re talking behavioral counselors and teachers as well as camp counselors?”

“They’ll be called aides, but they’ll act as counselors like at a camp, yes. And only a small staff of teachers, since the older boys will take some of their classes online. We’ll also have a live-in registered nurse.”